


The Book of Hours

by sandausdenurnen



Series: Seven is a Magical Number [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Autism Spectrum, Major Character Injury, Muggle Wizard conflict, Multi, Number Five | The Boy-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandausdenurnen/pseuds/sandausdenurnen
Summary: Elliott Gussman, a Hufflepuff third-year, met a Slytherin boy of the same age on the train to Hogwarts. They quickly bonded over gossips about their headmaster and other conspiracy theories in the wizarding world. A few hours later, Elliott found out on the year opening ceremony that the boy was in fact the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Number Five Hargreeves.An Umbrella Academy fic set in the Harry Potter Universe, where all Hargreeves are professors at Hogwarts and the headmaster is a talking fish man.Also they all speak with an English accent now so I will leave that to your imagination.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Number Five | The Boy & Elliott Gussman, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves | Umbrella Academy, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Raymond Chestnut/Allison Hargreeves, Sissy Cooper/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: Seven is a Magical Number [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216289
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. The Strange Boy on the Train

**Author's Note:**

> This is an English version of my own fic <时辰之书> (original Chinese version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714940), translated by myself and Google.
> 
> I know I have a bad track record of starting a new fic and not finishing it, but I have a good feeling about this one...

"Are you new around here? Your robe looks different...Did you transfer from another European school of magic?"

The boy leaning against the window turned his head and looked at Elliot. He could not have been a first year--Elliot thought the moment he saw his face. Although still fairly young, the boy was at least twelve or older, but no more than fourteen. He had long lost this innocent, curious and bursting anticipation commonly found in first-year students. To be more specific, there was not even a hint of passion in those chilling green eyes. But he appeared small-framed, even shorter than Elliot, and his cheeks still had some baby fat only seen on pre-puberty boys.

"...Why do you ask?" To Elliot's surprise, the boy answered immediately, no attitude, just a calm, playful tone. "You know everyone on this train?"

"Oh, no, not that...almost everyone on this carriage is a third year." Elliott said, then struck his own head before stretching out a hand. "How did I forget...I'm Elliott Gussman, by the way. Hogwarts third year. Hufflepuff."

The boy looked at him, lowered his head to look at his hand, still with interested eyes, but did not move a single muscle.

Elliott’s grin stiffened, and he pulled his hand back awkwardly.

"Tell me, Elliott." The boy seemed to not want to embarrass him in anyway. He switched his legs into a different position, one foot resting on top of a knee, head raised up, staring at Elliott with a faint smile. "Are you familiar with Hogwarts? Do you know everyone in your year?"

"So you _are_ a transfer student?" Excitement retuned to Elliott’s eyes. He looked up and down at the boy’s robe. It had the Hogwarts school badge engraved on the chest, but the style of the robe was different from the others’—Elliott and other Hogwarts students (regardless of their houses) wore long robes that covered their calves, with a hoodie and broad silk collar of different colours to show the owner's house. Elliott's was black and yellow representing the house of Hufflepuff. Under the robe was a white shirt, a house-colour tie, and a dark grey jumper to wear in spring, autumn and winter. Their pants were unisized long trousers. However, Hogwarts' school uniforms did change throughout the years. Every twenty years, designers came up with some sort of re-invention, keeping up with the time and bringing a breath of fresh air to those young students. Elliot heard that the school uniform of their generation had a somewhat Renaissance implication, imitating the style of the school's most glorious times in the early nineties. At that time, Hogwarts exported countless young witches and wizards who defined the era, including the _Chosen One_ himself. The school had won the first Triwizard Tournament in a century and ranked first in Europe over all other wizardry institutions.

The robe the boy wore were short, like a sleeve-high Victorian cloak, covering only the upper arm and part of his back. The collar was decorated with silk threads and tassels instead of wide band of silk. The boy’s colour was silver-green--the colour representing the House of Slytherin. Under the cloak was the same white shirt and a house-colour tie. The difference was that the boy wore a dark suit and vest, as well as shorts and knee-high socks of dark grey. The styles of their shoes were similar though.

"More or less." The boy nodded, smiling to reveal a dimple. "I hope I can learn as much as possible about how the school is like _nowadays_ and quickly integrate into the new environment. Would you like to do me this favour?"

"...a fav…a favour?" Elliot stammered. He looked at the silver-green colour of the boy's collar and the snake logo on the school badge, then pointed at himself. "You...you want me to help you?"

A Slytherin--very likely a pure-blood--asks a half-blood Hufflepuff for a favour. _Is this even real?_

"Talk to me if you have something interesting to say." The boy began to get a little impatient. "Or keep your mouth shut. If you bullshit me, my owl might find it a toilet and fly over to poop."

He glanced at the cage shelved on the suitcases beside him. A brown-spotted, solemn-faced owl stared back at Elliott.

Swallowing for a few times, not wanting to dwell on the thought of how this owl might escape the cage and shit in his mouth, Elliott started talking. In fact, he was waiting for this opportunity to come up. Over the past two years, he had been seeking for the right moment to show off his meticulous observation, as well as his study and research of every nook and crannies of the school ground, the buried histories, and gossips of celebrity who graduated from Hogwarts. But few people wished to listen.

"You probably already know that, but Hogwarts is THE oldest school of magic and magical practice on the European continent. Not even by a small margin. I’m not gonna repeat its origin. There’re literally hundreds of books on this. You care about something more recent, I’m sure. Let’s start with our current headmaster, Professor A. J. Carmichael..."

The bell of the food truck rang in a delighted tone. The food truck lady, Ms. Agnes, came with her delicious wagon full of snacks and desserts.

"Pumpkin pie, chocolate frog, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans..." Agnes sang with a birdy voice. Elliot swallowed, touched the few Sickles in his pocket, and sighed. The boy on the opposite side sat straight up, looking eagerly out of the compartment. When he saw Agnes’ face, his eyes seemed to show more nostalgia than when he saw the small truck filled with food.

"My dear, what do you want?" Agnes stuck her head into the compartment of two boys, smiling gently.

"...Uh...a chocolate frog, thank you." Elliott said softly, piecing together a few coins to give to her.

The boy waited a while before making a noise.

"Do you have black coffee?"

"A black what, Honey?"

"...Never mind." The boy lowered his head. "A peanut butter marshmallow sandwich please."

"I have peanut butter, marshmallows and sandwiches, sweetheart. Not three of them together."

"Then these three please." The boy smiled widely, showing a dimple again. Elliott realized it was his fake smile. As Agnes pushed the car away, he heard the boy muttering, "She had it before...".

"...You drink coffee?" Elliott leaned forward and asked quietly. "Are you sure? It's a Muggle drink..."

"Do you have any constructive comments on that?" The boy glanced at him. "If not, better shut up or go back to the topic we were at earlier."

"I have coffee," Elliott said, taking out a thermos from his backpack. "My dad asked me to bring it when he left me on the station. Columbian beans, I don't know if you are used to drink..."

The boy's green eyes immediately glowed. This was the first time Elliott saw any light coming out of those dead waters.

"Give it to me." The boy said flatly.

For some reason, Eliot felt he simply could not defy this order, even if it was his coffee in the first place. His father, who was a dentist, grinded the beans for him with love before him leaving...

The boy took the thermos cup, switched the lid off, filled a cup of hot, dark Columbian Americano, and took a deep sip with contentment.

"...Your father did this?" He closed his eyes, enjoyed the aftertaste for a while, then spoke.

"Uh...Yes. My dad is a Muggle, he is deeply knowledgeable about coffee..." Elliott hesitated, wondering if he should mention that he had a Muggle father in front of a Slytherin.

"I hope he live long like Merlin," the boy said, not caring about his pedigree at all. Elliott breathed a sigh of relief.

"You were saying...?"

"Oh, our headmaster, Professor A. J. Carmichael, Third Class Order of Merlin, an honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League, five times winner of the Witch Weekly’s most charming goldfish award...Many people say he is the best wizard of the Millennial generation. He is also the youngest headmaster ever at Hogwarts...But you wanna know what I think? Can’t equate age of a goldfish with the age of a human being, am I right? After all, their memories only last seven seconds." Elliott mumbled on while tearing open a chocolate frog. With one agile catch, he grabbed the frog before it could get away and put it in his mouth. "And, if you ask me, many of Professor Carmichael's qualifications are over-exaggerated. Except for the most charming goldfish one. I don't know the aesthetics of fish."

"...Yeah?" The boy raised his head from the task of making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich and asked with sincere curiosity. "And why do you think that? I’d like to hear the details."

"First of all, people said he was an Animagus, because a transformation failure he was never able to return to human form. So he cast a spell on a scarecrow to transform it into a human body, then attach it to a fish tank...I mean, how good of a mage you could possibly be if you make simple mistakes like that?"

Elliott paused. He found that the boy on the opposite side was still listening intensely, his lips pursed, nodding constantly.

"…Anything else?"

"Also--" Elliott was thrilled by his attention. He couldn't help but continue with immense enthusiasm. "Professor Carmichael was appointed the headmaster after The Great Amnesia five years ago. The Great Amnesia--you may not remember it, after all, you were still quite young at the time--was the mysterious disaster that both magical and Muggle worlds had experienced. I know all about it because I am extremely interested in the cause of the disaster. Ever since I heard the term, I have been digging evidence..."

"I know what The Great Amnesia is." The boy answered calmly. "One day, many wizards and Muggles woke up in some wasteland, having lost all memories of the past year. Almost all written and digital files of that year had been destroyed. No one remembered how the disaster happened. The effect also rippled through ten years of historical records--missing entries, seemingly altered manuscripts, blank outs. A nightmare for historians."

"Precisely!" Elliott shouted, clapping his hands. "Carmichael was able to come to the front stage because most of all the powerful wizards have suffered some level of memory loss, but as a fish, he was unaffected by this amnesia curse, hence became the headmaster. Exactly how qualified is he? When the cat's away, the mice will play. If you know what I mean."

The boy laughed, this time it sounded sincere. He even choked on the coffee and finally put down the thermos cup reluctantly.

"Are you really a Hufflepuff?" After a coughing fit, he looked up at Elliott, amused, almost in awe, said unironically. "Doubting authority and disobedient, you are more of a Gryffindor. Or Slytherin."

Elliott blushed and scratched his head subconsciously.

"When I was sorted, the sorting hat did sit on my head for quite a while." He said, suddenly raising his head again, face determined. "But I think, people often mistake Hufflepuffs for some tamed, cabbage-chewing livestock. It’s a common myth and quite discriminative if you ask me. We are just as observant, as keen to know the truth about how the world operates like any Gryffindor, Slytherin, or Ravenclaw. We are just more low-key, better at self-preserving than a Gryffindor, or humbler than a Slytherin."

He suddenly woke up from his speech and realized how arrogant he must have sounded. To his surprise, the Slytherin boy did not seem to be offended or smile in sarcasm. Instead, he nodded with an honest approval.

"You are right. You are a proud Hufflepuff and you should be." The boy said. "I should give ten points to your house. It's a pity that the semester hasn't started yet. We’ll save it for later."

...What is this kid on about?

Elliott did not understand his last sentence. But he didn't care much. He made friend with a Slytherin! This was enough material for him to brag in the common room already. And this new friend even looked smart, composed, and mature beyond age. He was sure this boy would be able to quickly adapt to the new environment and soon became a star in school. How cool it would be if he greeted him in the hallway…

Suddenly, Elliott remembered.

"I haven't asked your name yet." He spoke. "what's your name?"

The boy raised his head and snorted from his nose, still chewing on the sandwich.

"Number Five." He said vaguely. "When there is no one around, you may call me that. Take it as a thank you for your father’s coffee. But when in front of others, you must call me Sir."

...Strange request, but he could get by it.

For the rest of the journey, he kept babbling about the rumours, scraps of evidence, and clues he had been gathering for years at school and the information on The Great Amnesia. The boy kept listening with great interests. He also showed him his collection of chocolate frog cards. "Just one more--" He said, "Just one more and I’ll have a complete set. The fifth sibling of the Hargreeves family--the only card I lack--no one even know what his real name is! After all, He disappeared many years before The Great Amnesia. Although the few existing records call him ‘the most powerful wizard of this generation’, some people even say he is ‘the art of darkness of our time’. But his card is just so rare! Like the traces he left in the wizarding world..."

Without even realising how much time had passed, as the train pulled over slowly near the platform, Elliott came to notice the journey had reached an abrupt end. He looked out of the window in surprise, somewhat disappointed that he couldn't enjoy more time with the boy sitting opposite of him--he hadn't enjoyed himself so much by talking relentlessly about his obsession for a long time.

Following the steps of other third-year students, Elliott and a few familiar but unfriendly faces arrived in front of an array of horseless carriages that connected Hogsmeade to the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There was still nothing in front of the carriage, same as when Elliott saw them in the beginning of second year. Either these carriages were charmed to fly, or the horses were invisible magical creatures. He turned his head and tried to find the Slytherin boy, with some hope that he might still be around--he found him, in a fleeting moment of joy. The boy stood by the carriage next to him, reaching out and stroking gently at a shape of void. Could he see these invisible horses?

"It was nice chatting with you, Elliott Gussman." The boy who called himself "Number Five" said, shaking his arm to remove an invisible rein. "I look forward to seeing you again at Hogwarts. Focus on the art and steer away from vanity, Mr. Gussman. Maybe you’ll just become the most powerful wizard of the coming generation."

Then, as Elliott and many nearby students watching in awe, the boy climbed on one of the invisible horses and flew away, straight into the dark clouds of the night sky, leaving only an empty carriage, like a portrait that had lost its magic, displayed boringly in the pale moonlight.

It was not until the sorting ceremony when Elliott finally saw Leonard and Harlan--his only two friends--running over several sections at the Hufflepuff dinner table and finally found him and sat down next to him.

"Where have you been?" Leonard complained. "We were looking for you everywhere on the train. Didn't we say we were gonna meet in compartment 4B?"

Elliott glanced at his friends with a guilty stare: Leonard was furious, and Harlan just hung his eyes down like puppies, silent as usual. He sighed.

"I'm sorry. I only saw your text after I put my stuff down." He apologized wholeheartedly. "Besides, my seat wasn’t quite that bad. There is only one person sitting with me, and--guess what--he is a transfer student and a Slytherin."

"Slytherins are all racist jerks who are egocentric and narcissistic." Leonard spit. "Why would you sit with one of them?"

"This Slytherin is different!" Elliott protested. "He's really cool, and nice...even pretty…kind of."

"Oh come on, Elliott..." Leonard rolled his eyes.

"Hey! I'm just telling you what I saw!" Elliott said, blushing. "If Harlan saw him, he would agree with me too. Wait, I'll find him on the Slytherin table, then you’ll see what I mean, Leo. Even a pervert like you who sees no other living beings besides our matron Vanya—"

"Hey!" Leonard stuck a knife on the potato in a gesture of opposition.

Ding Ding!

The headmaster made a crispy noise by knocking his glass fish tank head with a silver dinner spoon, the sound strengthened magically and echoed throughout the Great Hall. Elliott realized that the sorting ceremony was over, and even the school song had been finished.

"Quiet--" The headmaster said with a lazy voice. The sound of water waves and bubbles, also strengthened by magic, overflowed from the mouth of the white-bearded fish, spreading like a tide of ocean waves, bouncing off stone walls and ceilings, where a starry night sky shone under spell.

"Farewell to the old years in welcome of the new one, that ushers us into another vibrant, exciting adventure..."

This shit again. Elliott thought. Ever since he got into the school two years ago, Carmichael’s pretentious year-opening speech had not changed at all. Well, maybe a few words at best, like the year number, but he wrote it so long it didn’t matter in the end. The headmaster seemed to enjoy the fact that none of the teachers or students were interested but had to listen to his long bubbling presentation nonetheless. Only Harlan seemed to be in a good mood. He loved repeating things. He sat on Elliott's left, concentrating on the levitation charm to build a tower of potato gems.

"...This year, we are going to introduce a new member to our school."

Harlan raised his head abruptly, and the potato tower fell over. That was when Elliott knew Carmichael finally said something novel.

"Ah, not you, first year, don't get all excited over yourselves, the highlight of your life had already passed at the sorting ceremony. In the next seven years, that could very well be the only chance you have to stand on this honourable stage..."

The first year students booed boldly in disappointment and rage.

"I want to introduce a new staff." The headmaster said, with a smile on his fish face and nervous tickle in his voice. "Your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Another one? How often do they change teachers for this subject?" Leonard muttered, "There had been four in the past two years. Is this a curse thing?"

"Guess how long this new teacher’s gonna stick around for?" Said a senior Hufflepuff sitting across.

Haran just stared at the teacher’s seats, his eyes focused, his body swayed slightly, as if he saw something nobody else could.

"Everyone please raise your hands and welcome Professor Hargreeves." The headmaster tapped on his fish tank again.

The junior years started a sparse, reluctant clapping. The seniors only booed in surprise and disapproval. Because this was not the first time they had heard the name "Hargreeves" tied to the title "Professor". It was not even the second or third time. It was the sixth time. And then one time it followed the title "Madam", who was the school matron.

Among the teacher's seats on the front stage, there had already been six Hargreeves. Five of them were teachers who taught five of the core subjects from the first year, and there is also the main healer at the school hospital. Although the Hargreeves family had been one of the most influential pure-blood families in the wizarding world in all of England, this monopoly was a bit of an outrage.

Among them, Elliott was perhaps the only one who got so excited he jumped up to look at the person about to walk up the stage, one hand almost shredding Leonard's sleeve.

"It's the fifth Hargreeves!" He couldn't help but shout while the applause and boos around him were still loud and clear. "We are going to see the fifth Hargreeves! Ha, I knew he wasn’t dead!"

"...Or in Azkaban?" Leonard looked at him with a cringing face.

"That's just a rumour. It has no basis."

"Maybe because the basis was lost in The Great Amnesia."

"Even Carmichael wouldn’t hire a criminal from Azkaban to be a teacher."

"Fear...fear..." Harlan repeated in a low voice.

"Huh? What are you saying, Harlan?" Leonard leaned over to listen.

"The headmaster...is scared..." Harlan whispered.

Elliott glanced at Carmack in confusion. The latter spun around exhaustingly in the fish tank, as happy as any fish in water would seem. Can Harlan understand fish language?

"That took long enough. Anyone see the teacher?" Said a Hufflepuff sitting in the back row.

"Where is the teacher? I can’t see anyone!"

While they kept on clamouring, a voice appeared. It did not come from Carmichael, nor did it come from the staff row, nor was it just a loud voice strengthened by magic. It came from within--the sound of one’s internal monologue when they talked to themselves in their minds, or the speaking of a dream when they were sound asleep, or the excessive murmuring a crazed person claimed only he could hear--that was the voice they all heard.

Everyone heard the voice, so the lobby fell silent for a moment. People who previously stood on their chairs sat down and dropped their arms. People who flailed their limbs around now tightened them up and bent over in fear. Only then could Elliott finally see the person on the stage--he was standing next to the headmaster, but because of his short stature, he was completely hidden to students at the back rows. His chilling green eyes looked indifferent, sweeping casually over all students in the hall, as if seeing right through their entire lives and looked upon them from their deaths. Then he opened his mouth, and the voice spoke inside everyone's brain.

"My name is Number Five. You can call me Professor Hargreeves, Professor Five, or simply Sir, whatever. But I do not tolerate stupid nicknames. I hope you will all be as quiet as you are right now when you are in my class."

After saying these brief words, he stepped off the stage and walked to the dining table of the other Hargreeves. Professor Diego of the flying class raised his fist and touched his brother’s shoulder. Professor Klaus of the Potions class was grinning all over his face, even attempted to hug him after he sat down, but was swiftly stopped. The school matron, Madam Vanya, looked over from the end of the table and greeted him with a smile. He also responded with an expression as close to a smile as he could possibly pull off.

"Professor Five will take over the position of Professor Klaus as the new head of Slytherin House." Carmichael remarked at last. "Okay, this concludes tonight’s ceremony. Enjoy the human food as long as you can. Blessed little gluttonies."

It took a few minutes for the students to gradually regain control over their own bodies, knowing that foreign, unfamiliar voice no longer dominated their brains. They slowly recovered their own thinking voice and decided to ignore the difficult and terrifying existential questions, like "what just happened", "how did he do that" or "are my thoughts still mine?", instead focused on the fried potatoes, roast chicken, and dirty jokes that they hadn’t finished from before.

Only Elliott still sat there in shock, stiff as a statue, motionless, no matter how hard Leonard shook him, no matter how many potato gems Harlan stole from his plate to make potato towers.

He still couldn't believe it--the fifth Hargreeves sibling, their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, was the boy who talked exhaustively with him on the train less than an hour ago.


	2. Defence against the Dark Arts, cross-out defence

Waking up, Elliott still felt the anxiety and fear that entangled him all night. The scene where he got called to the headmaster's office in the dream was so realistic, he was quite convinced it foreshadowed his future: he was about to be expelled from Hogwarts.

"I'm going to be expelled." He said for the ten thousandth time since dinner yesterday. Leonard finally got tired of hearing it.

"Lighten up!" He patted Elliott's face, foam splashing from his mouth, biting a toothbrush. "You are not gonna get expelled."

"....Maybe." Elliott said with a flat voice. "Maybe I will be killed instead."

"You think too much." Leonard laughed. "You just threw some shade at the headmaster. Everybody does that. Even if the new teacher was really so cheap he did blow the whistle, you’ll just get detention."

"It wasn’t just some shade!" Elliott argued furiously. "I also talked about my theory on The Great Amnesia, the role the Ministry of Magic played on this matter, and the dark secrets of Hogwarts, all that stuff...he must think I know too much!"

"He must think you are nuts." Leonard laughed louder.

Elliott glared at him, looking betrayed. Leonard realized he really hurt his self-esteem, and slowly put away his smile.

"Hey, buddy, you know I always have your back, right? " The round-faced boy spat out the foam in his mouth and patted Elliott on the shoulder. "We are best friends. And Harlan, am I right?"

Harlan was spewing bubbles to the mirror, didn't hear a word he said. Leonard cared no less. They had all gotten used to Harlan's behaviour.

"I believe in your...big discoveries. But it doesn't mean that others will understand. After all, no one knows you like I do." Leonard continued. The hand resting on Elliott's shoulder felt a little too tight, even hurting him faintly. But he smiled nonetheless, feeling moved by his words. Even at Hufflepuff, Elliott was a bit of an outcast, partly because he grew up in the Muggle world. Even though his mother was a witch, she and his father had reached an agreement that Elliott should receive Muggle education before he turned eleven. Another reason was his inherently sceptical nature and the enthusiasm of fixating onto a subject once he found an interest in, making other people see him as strange and unapproachable. If it wasn’t for Leonard and Harlan, who didn't care about his flaws and still became friends with him, he would be a complete loner.

Leonard also came from a Muggle family, so he had a lot in common with Elliott. He also had some incompatible traits with others, so he found Elliott more fun and "normal" to associate with. Leonard lost his mother at a young age, later lost his father in a tragic accident, and was raised by his grandmother. His Muggle grandma knew nothing about magic and thought he had gone to some elite boarding school in Scotland. Elliott didn't understand why Leonard refused to tell his grandma the truth, but Leonard insisted that it was for her own good.

As for Harlan--well, Harlan was an even more curious case. Rumours were that he stayed at the St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries until one week before coming to Hogwarts. With a dentist father, Elliott had some basic medical knowledge of the Muggle world, so he knew Harlan was autistic. However, the wizarding world had no concept of Asperger's spectrum. Some people referred to Harlan as a "source "--beings born with powerful magic even as a baby, not knowing how to use or control them, so they behaved differently from normal people. Others said that Harlan was tortured by his abusive Muggle father which simply drove him mad. But Elliott knew Harlan was not mad, and just as healthy as any other kid. True, he only spoke a few words in a day and stayed mostly in his own head, but he had never hurt anyone, even if he was exceptionally good at casting spells. But sometimes he would have an anxiety attack so severe that no one could calm him down. Then they had to take him to the school hospital to see Ms. Vanya.

Occasionally, Elliott noticed that Leonard would deliberately do something to irritate Harlan into a frenzy, to get the chance to go see the school matron. That was probably one of his least favourite things about Leonard...

First class in the morning was herbology. Professor Luther Hargreeves was probably the best teacher right now for Elliott to brood under. Prof. Luther’s gentle, moisturised, pale blue eyes, often seemed more confused than most of the students, could never see which student was paying no attention or taking a nap. Even if he saw them, he did not have the heart to wake them up. Elliott took this opportunity and completely immersed himself in dark imaginations, enumerating all the worst possible consequences he could face: expelled from school, hollers, writing repeatedly with a magic pen that would pierce his skin, waterboarding, _Crucio_ , _Avada Kedavra_...Fifty minutes later, he held the book in his trembling hands and stepped up the ever-changing stairs, ignoring Leonard’s incessant mumbling about how cool it must be for Prof. Luther to be a half-giant, and how much he’d like to face a real giant, for the thousandth time…until he stood in front of the door to the next classroom. Elliott took a deep breath, knowing that he had contemplated the worst-case scenarios. No matter what happened next, he was ready.

He pushed the door open and walked in, off to his first class on Defence Against the Dark Arts for the third year.

Before the first wave of students stepped in, Professor Five was already sitting in the classroom. More precisely, he was sitting on an instructor’s desk, with one leg dangling casually, not long enough to reach the floor, and the other leg resting comfortably on his knee. He was holding a huge book in his hands, which had no title on its cover, as he waited for all students to sit down without raising his head. An hourglass was set beside him, and the sand inside drained quietly, nearly to the last grain. Elliott noticed the name of the subject "Defence against the Dark Arts" had been written on the blackboard hanging over the podium, and the two words "Defence against" had been crossed out.

Likely due to the lingering fear from dinner last night, every student entered the classroom in absolute silence. Even after the classroom was packed, the silence prevailed. Even the most outspoken and bold Gryffindors seemed to have zipped their mouths shut. The only sounds one could hear were books thudding on the table, quill pens tapping into ink bottles, and someone’s farting noise--after a tremendous effort of holding back had failed, it sounded even sharper, and more miserable.

The last grain of sand finally drained from the top of the hourglass. Professor Five raised his head and turned the hourglass over with one hand. The light clank from the bottom of the hourglass hitting the table was enough to attract everyone's attention in a room ever so quiet.

"Let's start." Professor Five uttered, his voice steady, calm, and abrasive. Then he stood on top of the desk, waved his hand, and the blackboard where the subject title was written flew right beside him.

The classroom was still silent. No one dared to make a mockery at the teacher's act of having to stand on a table for the students at the back row to see. The very few people who couldn’t help it used a book to cover up their smile. If this was the class of Professor Klaus or Luther, they wouldn’t have to.

"I don't know how the other teachers have taught this subject, but I suggest you forget all that crap. Not because those teachers are mediocre, tax-stealing douchebags, although some of them are, but because knowledge is holistic and flowing. If you want to learn to nail, don’t switch hammers half-way."

As he spoke, he walked back and forth within the limited space of the desktop without looking down at the edge, but he never seemed to fall off. He tapped on the blackboard with one hand.

"Defence against Dark Arts is the name of this subject. But the first thing I want you to forget is this name. Art is art. There is no black, white, dark, or bright art. Magic is a skill, a _technique_. I am not here to teach you what is good and what is evil, or how to use good magic to defeat bad magic. Because there is only one thing that can defeat bad magic--and that is _better_ magic."

Elliott was speechless. Everything Professor Five said were so foreign to him. Not only did none of the other Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers ever mention them, basic moral and ethics of magical practices he had been taught to believe directly contradicted them. He was still in fear of what happened yesterday, so naturally he dared not raise a voice. But one brave Gryffindor student shakily raised his hand. When Professor Five saw him, he showed no sign of displeasure.

"You are…"

"Anderson, sir. My name’s Anderson."

"Talk. Anderson."

Anderson stood up, trembling. Something he would never do in any other classes.

"What you just said, you meant there is no dark magic in this world--no evil, forbidden magic, is that what you were saying, Sir?"

"Forbidden magic, yes." Professor Five replied quickly. "Evil is a construct. Magic alters matter. Pure construct and pure matter are not comparable to each other." Seeing the student looked confused, he decided to give a simpler answer. "No, I don't think evil magic exists."

"Not even the Three Unforgivable Curses?" Anderson asked, greatly shocked. "The Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse, aren't these spells evil?"

"A spell is a spell, Mr. Anderson." Professor Five said, not caring about the sharp inhales all around him, as their life’s beliefs were being challenged, and continued to speak in a confident, boyishly soft but steady voice. "They can be used for evil purposes, but they are not evil themselves."

Amidst the audience, the ones with faint hearts already turned pale and ready to pass out. Some students seemed to be filled with righteous rage, about to pack their bags and leave. Others, surprisingly appreciative, even completely in awe, were staring up at the professor intently. Leonard was one of the last category.

Anderson, being a proud Gryffindor, though his hands trembled with shock, anger, and fear, still managed to keep up with the questions. "A spell, the sole purpose of which is to kill and torture people, is not evil, you say? If that’s not an evil curse, then what is an evil curse?"

"Like I said at the beginning, there is no such thing as an evil curse." The professor said coldly. But he looked at Anderson with a slight smile of approval. He jumped off the podium and walked slowly to Anderson's side. The latter stepped back subconsciously, although the height of the professor was only up to his chest.

"Let's put it this way, Mr. Anderson. If the curse that kills human beings is an evil curse, shouldn't the counter-spell, which brings the dead back to life, be a blessed miracle? Yet necromancy is considered a type of forbidden magic. And wizards who perform necromancy are branded dark wizards, who are either trialled or exceled?"

"Be-because..." Anderson could back down no further, pushing the Gryffindor girl behind him against the wall. "Because necromancy is...not a real resurrection. Because the necromanced...I mean, the people who are resurrected are not really alive, they are like zombies...and, there are also living sacrifices... …"

"Where did your get that knowledge from?" Professor Five questioned casually. "Quote your reference."

"I...I..." Anderson stammered for a while, and finally admitted defeat. "I have no reference...I read that in a comic book..."

Only then did the first burst of laughter erupted in the classroom. But even this laughter was short-lived. Many people just smiled for the sake of it, then soon fell into deep thoughts.

Professor Five nodded, finally stepped away from the student's seat, and everyone around him sighed in relief.

"Mr. Anderson personally admitted that he knows nothing about necromancy. Yet his doubts were sincere. To ask questions openly and honestly requires courage, which is commendable. It’s the first step towards learning. Ten points to Gryffindor."

The professor’s words came as yet another surprise. Not only did Anderson survive, but he also earned his house ten points from the head of Slytherin, an opposing house.

Professor Five walked back to his desk and sat down on it. "Anyone here, who knows what necromancy is, can answer in his stead."

The students fell silent. Elliott wished he knew how to answer the question, but all the books on necromancy were in the restricted area of the school library, even if he wanted to, he had no access.

"That’s what I thought." Professor Five raised an eyebrow, having already expected the outcome. "Knowing that Killing Curse is evil without ever knowing the curse itself. Knowing necromancy is evil without knowing anything about it. We can sit here talking about ethics all day, but when it comes to life and death, all these are but words. The purpose of this subject is for you to understand about these so-called 'evil curses'. When you have learned everything about them, you can judge good or evil by yourself. But that’s no longer my job."

The inhaling sounds happened all over again. A Hufflepuff girl with weak cardio literally dropped on the table.

Professor Five didn't even look in her direction.

"You mean, we will be learning the Killing Curse?" Leonard blurted out in surprise. Elliott had never seen him so brave as to speak in public, but maybe he was too excited.

"One day. Yes." Professor Five affirmed.

Someone on the Gryffindor table also fainted. Another bold Gryffindor boy shouted: “But--but that’s forbidden by the Ministry!"

The professor sneered. "Then they can come and arrest me."

"How can we learn it?" Another student asked, "Are we going to throw killing curses at each other?"

"You really are eager to learn, aren’t you? Bunch of smartassess…You’ll be learning that in Seventh grade and no earlier. But if you wish to start preparing, I can answer that now." The professor smiled sarcastically. "No. You will be throwing killing curse at me."

 _Bam!_ Elliott felt if the class continued like this, the entire medical wing would be filled with fainted students.

"That’s not possible!" At this point, the students no longer raised their hands before asking questions, and several voices busted out at once. "This is just unrealistic! The Unforgivable Curses have no counter-spell, nor can they be blocked. Once it is cast, someone WILL die!"

"Who told you the Unforgivable Curses have no counter spell?" Professor Five said with a smile, legs swinging back and forth, looking incredibly childish. "Like I said, magic is a technique. For any spell, there is a way to counter it, but you must first understand what it is that you are countering. That's why you are here, why you need to learn everything, whether it’s good or evil, whether you like it or not. Because that’s the way it is. Before the concept of good and evil existed, death had long been reigning and the world already found its way to be."

"This is the coolest lesson I've ever had in my fucking life!" Leonard muttered repetitively on his way to lunch. "Tiny Professor Hargreeves is the fucking best!"

"Told you so." Elliott said, surprisingly uninterested. He was just glad he didn’t get detention after class. Prof. Five did not even say a word to him, at least not directly, nor look at him more than any other student, which made him somewhat disappointed. "I told you you’d like him when you actually meet him."

"All the other Professors were lambs, scared shitless whenever someone asked about the Unforgivable Curses." Leonard continued. "Now we can actually learn these spells? Unbelievable."

"That's why you are so excited?" Elliott looked at him worriedly. "Because you get to learn the killing curse?"

"O…of course not!" Leonard quickly put away his frenetic smile, replied solemnly. "I was just thinking...You heard Tiny Professor Hargreeves said...Skills are skills. Magic is…training of those skills. If we aren’t familiar with the killing curse, how are we able to save lives from the curse? Ain’t that right, Harlan?"

Harlan did not answer him right away. He just murmured softly to himself: "Unforgivable...unforgivable...No..."

Leonard did not expect him to give a meaningful answer anyway.

"If you really respect Professor Five--" Elliott said dully. "At least do as he said--no stupid nicknames."

"What? You meant Tiny Professor Hargreeves?" Leonard looked at him sideways. "I am not the one who came up with it. I heard it from those Gryffindors. He IS really tiny though."

"That's because he was cursed!" Elliott got a little angry. "He just explained it in class. He was under a powerful curse that caused his body to stop aging. That’s why he disappeared so many years ago."

"Really?" Leonard narrowed his eyes. "You believe that bullshit? Come on, Elliott, you were supposed to be the sceptical one."

"When you have sufficient evidence. But we don't have--"

"Not sufficient evidence? First of all, we know that he is at least thirty years old, because he was adopted the same day by Sir Reginald Hargreeves as the other Professor Hargreeves. Dozens of books have recorded this, including Sir Reginald’s own memoir. We also know that--according to several Hogwarts archives luckily survived The Great Amnesia--all Hargreeves graduated from Hogwarts the same year. That is to say, Professor Five should at least look seventeen, but why is he still twelve or thirteen something, eh? If the curse stops him from growing, then he’d look at least seventeen, am I right?"

"...How did you know all this? I thought--"

"Too many times, Elliott. You have repeated these things in my ears so many times that I don't need to look’em up. They are already printed in my mind!"

"Well...OK then. I just didn't expect one day you’d use them against me."

"Also," Leonard continued. "If Professor Five really is, like they said, the most powerful wizard of a generation, who cursed him? Huh? He can counter even the unforgivable curses. Who could possibly have the power to curse him? And it’s such a vicious curse--turning an adult man into a Tamagotchi. I mean...is that even possible?"

"...He is not _that_ small..."

"Tamagotchi!" Harlan screamed, suddenly became interested in the conversation. "Tamagotchi!"

"Oh, now you’ve done it." Elliott scoffed. "If Harlan ever says the word ‘tamagotchi’ in front of Professor Five, we would all be dead."

"Don't worry." Leonard said in a confident voice. "Ms. Vanya cares a lot about Harlan. Even Professor Five would not defy Ms. Vanya."

"Stop being such a Simp!" Elliott cried out, "Ms. Vanya is a Squib! Everyone in the school knows that!"

"She IS NOT!" Leonard screamed, frightening Elliott. Every time Ms. Vanya’s name was mentioned, Leonard always acted out like this. Elliott regretted immediately for bringing it up.

"There is so much in her that nobody else but I know..." Leonard murmured. Elliott wanted to take Harlan and run, but that was just a thought.

"No one knows her better than I do." Leonard continued to assure himself, "Because I know...I have heard what’s in her heart..."

This is his second least favourite thing about Leonard. Elliott thought quietly.

Whenever Ms. Vanya was involved, Leonard would turn to a Seeker who had just spotted the Golden Snitch. Problem was, Leonard was the lousiest Quidditch player in the world. He couldn’t even sit on a broom without falling on his ass several times.

Twilight domed over the castle. Looking out of the long window from the medical wing, evening clouds shrouded the dark forests with a light rosy touch, a waving and flourishing ocean of green. The evening wind brushed the edges of the clouds into strands, flocculent, soft like marshmallows. This was Vanya's favourite time of a day.

Later, the owls would come back, in packs like migrating birds, with the latest letters at the end of a long day, waiting to be read under the candlelight by a homesick kid. Vanya would put the freshly harvested Mandrake leaves into clean flasks, wrap the dried dittany in front of the window with linen cloth, and move the cans of aconite roots to her office one by one, store them underneath the cabinet, let them ferment in a cool dim space. After all these tasks were done, there would usually be a while before dinner time, so she could go to the ward to visit these bored kids, sitting on their beds doing origami with candy wraps, and chat with them, or play some wizard chess.

Today, the hospital wing was quite lively, the first few days after school had started were always one of the busiest periods. Some students got sick due to change in environments, some ate too much at dinner, some had accidents in class, and some simply wanted to find a corner away from their classmates and cry. At night, the number of students admitted to the hospital started to decline, and the medicine started to take effect. As a result, the ward became a social gathering place. Students from different years and houses who never had a chance to meet, would switch beds, crying and moaning would be replaced by laughter and chatter. Vanya looked over from a distance, unable to hold a smile. It was then she heard a familiar noise from behind her--like air just got compressed then expanded in a single second--followed by a series of glass shattering sounds.

"Geez..." Two glass doors opened, and bottles after cans rolled out of the cabinet, then a boy fell out, looking annoyed at his wet clothes, tainted by various potions, fluids and Flobberworm’s Mucus. "...Who put a cabinet here..."

"This cabinet’s been here for several years." Vanya said, smiling, not at all angry at the mess he made. "The door to the infirmary is now open to the north. This is a storage room. You just had to use Apparition when you can simply walk through the door. You know Apparition is forbidden at school, right?"

"I did not Apparate." The boy said, took his wand out of his arms and pointed it to himself. All the taints disappeared at once. Then he pointed it at the broken medicine jars and medical supplies. "You know my abilities, Vanya."

"I know, but in the eyes of the others, it is Apparition." Vanya shrugged, watching the boy quickly restore the mess with no effort, as if he never fell out of the cabinet in the first place. "If you get caught, they will file a complaint to Headmaster Carmichael."

The boy scoffed. "Yeah, right. See what Carmichael can do about that."

"You should pay the headmaster some basic respect, Five." Vanya reminded. "People might talk. Speculating the relationship between you two. You don't want people to ask questions, do you?"

Five glanced at her without saying a word. But his cocky smile quickly disappeared.

Vanya kept walking to the office. She knew Five would follow her.

"...Are you going?" The boy whispered from a distance. "Tonight. Family gathering at Three Broomsticks."

"Of course." Vanya said, taking off the medical cap on her head. "I was about to change, then I’ll be on my way. Are you here just to ask me this?"

"No..." Five lowered his head. "You left without finishing dinner last night, patient call and all that...I just wanted to see how you are doing."

"I'm fine, Five. Thank you for coming." Vanya turned around and smiled at him sincerely. "I'm not...I'm not like before, Five. You don't need to worry about me."

Five pursed his lip, nodded, turned to play with an eyeball in a candle jar.

"What about you?" Vanya looked at him. "Getting used to school on your first day? The students didn't give you any trouble, did they?"

"Are you kidding? The kids love me." Five grinned. His attention was drawn to a basin next to a desk. He talked while walking towards it.

"...You put the pensieve here?"

"Yes. what's the matter?"

"There is no password between your office and the hospital beds, anyone can come in."

"So?" Vanya asked, amused, taking off her white healer’s robe. "Only teachers and students come around here. Who would touch it?"

"...Some creep? Stalker?"

"Five, you are being oversensitive." Vanya said. "This is Hogwarts. The safest place on earth."

"Not when you first came here it wasn’t..." Five murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing..." He walked to the pensieve. The greyish-blue, chaotic clouds and mists hovered inside like spiralling entangled memories. He turned his head and called out to Vanya: "Mind if I use it? I met an interesting character on my way here who told me a great deal of gossips and _that incident_ five years ago. I doubt most of them are reliable, but there might be some clues that’ll come in handy later on. But he was quite a chatterbox. I am afraid I won’t remember much after a while. Just want to save the memory while it’s there."

"Go ahead." Vanya shouted. She had already walked into the dressing room, so her voice came a long way. "There are also some dried persimmons in the cabinet next to it, and bottles of butter beer too. Feel free to grab some."

Five answered in a muddled voice. Then he raised his wand and pointed the glowing end to the misty pensieve. Gradually, the mist began to shake, peel off, and disperse, pressurised into water droplets, then fell back into the pensieve like heavy rain, rinsed and repeated. Large clouds of gas-vapour condensed into raindrops, then precipitated, stirring the initially calm lake surface into turbulent breaking waters. Suddenly, among the condensed droplets, a strangely shaped, wriggling thingy tried to blend into the rainstorm and fell back in, only to be quickly snatched by Five’s hand. He put away his wand, and the pensieve immediately returned to its former serenity.

In his hand lied a small, transparent, mercury-coloured worm, about the length of a fingernail. Realizing it could not escape, the worm immediately curled up, shaking its tail miserably, begging for mercy.

"Five? You still there?" This time, Vanya's voice came from not that far. "I'm done. Let’s go together?"

"I'll teleport you over." Five used a freeze spell on the bug, barely moved his wand, then put it inside his pocket.

"I just told you it's not a good idea. If people see you Appariting on Hogwarts’ ground--"

"Then I'll kill him and bring him back, let him appreciate the grace of life and stay out of my business. Stop complaining, sister. If we don’t hurry, Klaus’ gonna be on his second round of drinks, then it’d be really hard to get his stinky stubble out of my face."


End file.
